Artemisia felt battered. But what bothered her wasn't that her mother told her it was a mistake that the girl was alive. No. Something deep in her chest said that the woman was right, that life was a greater gift to her that she should receive. Accompanying that I see a memory, something a little painful, but it was real. As much as the girl tried to understand what she was told that other memory was an unknown she couldn't decipher. But the girl couldn't worry about it, not when her mother could convince everyone that her daughter was going crazy, which Artemisia didn't doubt, and that it would be necessary to take her to a place that was well cared for. Artemisia knew her mother had never liked her, but the idea of the woman interning her without more or less, at least for her, was a little too crude. Anyway, if the girl questioned whether or not people were going to make their mistakes, she would go crazy a lot faster than she was starting to get used to. Another memory sto
She did not remember falling asleep, let alone the moment she woke up. It seemed that her day had started with breakfast, at a somewhat long table with five chairs, beautiful fruit and pasta the height of an expensive restaurant. As the second Artemisia passed, she was able to understand well who was at the table and where they were. At both ends were her fathers, at the first, near the window, was the mother, at the second, near the door, was the father. It was something like an ancient tradition that fell on families. The first end, that of the window, was the place of the mother, since the dreams of the women and the connection with the night opened the eyes of the people of the house. At the end near the door was the father, since he had more connection with the day, the adventure under the sunlight, and that opened the doors of life. It was a bit confusing, but Artemisia loved some traditions and this one was in the same way. Already in the other chairs of the table, under t
Artemisia was tired of being unhappy in that mansion. She was beginning to wonder if it was worth leaving that place, fleeing away from Gaul and that family like a thorn bush. She wanted to be able to live at least once in her life. But at the same time as she thought that, the young woman sank into the covers and duvets of the bed, asking herself if she should do something to change that miserable existence. It hadn't. So, Artemisia decided to read the books she had picked up in the library. The book the young woman decided to read was the navy blue cover. It was still weird to hold that book, the "shadows" of aquatic reflections were a little hard to understand, it reminded her of all that seasonal feeling from the day before. The young woman stopped to think a little about it, about that supposed "day before". She forced her own mind, as if squeezing an orange, just to know how the previous day had ended, but she had no answer. Nothing. There was just nothing. The only real
"Do you understand what I meant by this dear memory album of ours, sister?" Myrtle asked by running her finger over the leather cover of the album. Artemisia just sighed, trying to undo that painful knot that was forming inside her. It was as if the veins of the heart were twisting at such sadness. "No, sister..." She felt like sitting down, but just kept standing. No matter what impact would be played against the young woman, falling was useless. "You're so insignificant to our parents, especially Mom. You don't even have a name of one of our grandmothers, or our dear aunt who cared for Dad when Grandma died." The woman stood up like a queen, majestically in that damn sky blue dress. "There's no picture of you, there's no notes on how you grew up happy and healthy. It doesn't." If the young woman could throw herself out of the window, she would. "That doesn't mean anything." Artemisia said with the shred of desire she had left to continue that conversation. "Exactly! You me
Time passed without Artemisia noticing. The world outside her room seemed to be continued to live as fast as it normally would. When the young woman decided, she was going to go out for a walk, the mansion looked like somewhere else. The windows were closed and almost all with the curtains covering them, the luminosity coming from the daylight was dimmer and a little grayish. The icy breeze that slammed into the girl's body was enough for her to come back and put a coat over her dress. As she descended the stairs, Artemisia noticed the noise of life in the mansion. On the third floor, it was difficult to see the movement of the employees and even their parents or sisters. In parts it was scary to be alone there, but most of the time the girl felt relieved not to be tormented several times a day, just when the employees went to clean that floor. There was also no way Artemisia could be scared to be alone on the third floor since that was her fourth since ... Since a long time. The
Artemisia seemed to be in an audience, sitting in the middle of an empty theater. Decorated with the most beautiful shade of blue, silver and water green all over the place. Some parts were painted dark blue, there were grayish white curtains, with silver ropes tying them. The seats were soft and in a shade so green that could easily mistake it for black. All that theater she beautiful. The young woman wasn't too far from the stage, she would have a perfect view of where she was. She also noticed that the stage itself was different from the other theaters the girl had ever been to. It wasn't a big enough space to fit a cast, even if the curtains were closed it was easy to see. There wasn't much space there, there was no way for a cast to perform on that stage. "There are many things we never know, insolent child, there are stories that hearing them is an extreme privilege. You seek these stories, you are after understanding to know something that does not suit you." The thing
She could feel everything she ate, wanting to come back. The images were directed several times at the two dead women, in active decomposition, looking deep into her eyes. That was enough for her to cry tiredly. Artemisia was already tired of crying, but that was the only way her body could express herself in the face of all that horror. "The truth hurts, apparently." The thing said, laughing at the deplorable state of Artemisia. That just her off more. "What makes you think you can discover the story without consequence? There's no way. It is part of your life to suffer. Poor useless humans." The young woman felt her body being caressed by that thing; it made the disgust intensify. The fact that she couldn't move made it worse. She tried her best not to express that she was still afraid of it, especially when that thing took shape again in front of the girl. Those eyes, that look, she felt like she was going to throw up just by looking at it.
She had a vague memory, wich was a little weak, but it was precious like diamonds or jades. The memory the young woman had was of being in a garden, full of yellow flowers like the sun itself. It was beautiful. There was also a cat, black as night, playing through the flowers as if it were a bee. That was the cutest scene she'd ever seen in her entire life. The smile that was born on her lips was so sincere that the young woman wondered when it had been the last time. A voice, beautiful but not remembering what it was like, spoke to her. The words were lost over time, but the young woman didn't care, the voice that spoke to her reminded her of the girl from a summer day, by a river, watching life run differently from hers. It wasn't an annoying, bright summer, it was a beautiful season she was happy to live in. In memory, there was a man standing next to her, looking at the young woman with a look as warm as the season. It was a demon, she
Artemisia leaned her body against the chair entirely, the truth hurting more than she could have imagined. She could tell that the stages of grief hit her too fast, so the young woman was already in anger. An outsized hatred of herself. Artemisia knew it was deadly, she saw her father die, the nannies die, the plants, the animals. It was clear as the day that it was her curse, but knowing it was so painful that it made the young woman want to vomit up all the sweets she had eaten. Suddenly something hit her too, a memory that involved stories. It was almost like a blur, but if Artemisia tried hard, she could understand that it had been a dream, a strange and a little disjointed dream. In it were three books, each of which bore a strange memory of the young woman. The first was a debt, of this she remembered better than the others, the second was pure pain, the same pain she had felt when Leonore opened that book of leather red as blood. The young woman raised her face looking towa
To the young woman's surprise, that point of darkness at the botanical fair was not a stall, in fact it was the façade of a flower shop. It didn't look like a flower shop, the dark colors and faded designs gave the impression that this shop was abandoned or that it was an old tallow, which was shattering over time. Artemisia stood for a good few minutes admiring that black blur in the midst of so much light and color. The storefront somehow reminded the young woman of herself, perhaps for the colors and the more old-fashioned style. "Maybe because you don't belong there." Again, those voices spoke deep in the young woman's mind, teasing her to make something happen. Something she had no idea what it might be, but given the illusions, or events, that had intensified morbidly over the past two days. Either way, she decided to ignore that voice, just as she had been doing since the second time she heard it — or at least trying to ignore it. "Don't be offended by witches," a female
The rest of the day Artemisia remained only immersed in her own thoughts, especially after discovering that one of the culprits of her current state is dead. The young woman really wanted to feel guilty for killing someone. Well, she felt guilty, but for that particular someone, Artemisia couldn't feel any twinges of kindness or empathy. An old subject? Yes, but the pain did not age, it renewed itself again and again, remaining fresh. It was only because the young woman couldn't feel guilty for killing the woman, she was still trying to figure out how the hell she had done that, since it was supposed to be for Hyacinth to be immortal, from earth to earth, being in a vicious circle of life.As she pulled the covers so she could warm herself from the cold that was beginning to stick to Artemisia's bones, she could feel that there was so much more to it. How would she kill such an old being, when even Death herself couldn't do that? Artemisia didn't know much of that world she had been
"I was hoping this time it would work." Geon said as the shadows danced around the fireplace. Artemisia looked at the demon with a raised eyebrow, it was not impressive to the young woman that it had happened more times than she would have liked—that at the moment, within the will of the young woman, the amount of times her soul could possess people and kill the owners of the bodies was faithfully clinging to zero—but it was still a little curious to think that perhaps that possession had been the one that had worked out the best. Even if it was a slightly vague definition of what "getting it right" is. If Helleborus hoped to have one more chance at life, run through green fields in the spring, and remain reclusive in the arms of a loving family during the winter, Artemisia felt a little sad to give her the bad answer about the woman's choices. "What happened to the other times?" Artemisia asked as she shrunk her legs until she could hug them. The cold was beginning to affect the
She stood staring at the countertop, for several minutes her mind had begun to get unbearably high. Part of the young woman was trying to believe that Geon had never really said whether or not he knew about what happened to Artemisia, even before she was "born," it had said only a small omission, nothing that was important enough that it could hurt or give that nagging feeling of being deceived. On the other hand, the other voice that screamed in Artemisia's mind said how much she would have been spared from all that misfortune, would not have freed her from more than twenty years of such agony, but would have saved her long enough for the young woman to understand everything that had happened and had happened. She could taste the bitter taste of betrayal, that pungent thing that stuck to her taste buds and stayed there until the young woman went mad with so much bitterness. She wanted to believe that it would give the final card of her insanity, finally letting what was supposed to
“Oh, you are here.” The demon spoke when he finally saw the young man in the middle of the living room. "I went to let Leonore know we're here, I wouldn't want to have an angry witch running after me." He turned away from the window, heading towards the couch.There were a few suitcases occupying the piece of furniture, Artemisia was quick to recognize them as they were the same ones she had used when moving into the mansion, theoretically several weeks earlier, in what would have been the beginning of spring.The young woman wanted to laugh about it, minutes after listening to the creature's whole lecture about the weather, she would be seeing the suitcases she had used to store some things before leaving her mother's house, it would be winter again, as it had been a season before.“I'll prepare lunch for you, apparently your body can't go too long without food. Try to find something warm to wear, Leonore's clan is looking for what could have caused this regretful winter.” Geon said
Maybe having followed that entity was a bad idea, but giving up in the middle of that situation seemed a bit extreme to do. Artemisia looked at the white immensity as she walked with that being, each step made her regret her decision even more, it was a bad choice.And then there was the fact that she was the one who wanted to find out more about the family curse, abandoning that would be an extremely shameful sign of cowardice. The only one to blame for being in that situation was Artemisia, the creature being there or not was just a curious part of the consequence.“You've heard his whole story, haven't you?” a creature asked as they stopped in front of a flower bed full of tulips."Yes." The young woman smiled, looking closely at the small flowers that grew amidst the blanket of snow. She had heard of these things before, flowers that bloomed during the winter, growing through the snow and into the dim sunlight. Artemisia didn't know how to explain it very well, but that vision ma
The moment Artemisia left that eye-filled place, the cold of the sudden winter hit her like an arrow. The whole green field that the young woman had seen through the window was now a white immensity. The story Tinea told her the day before sounded again, all over again, it was already starting to irritate Artemisia. She just wanted to live miserably well, she didn't want to have to go through it all and know that when she finally got rid of that life, the young woman's soul would still beg for death for the last life. She could be absolutely sure that everything would be repeated again, from the days in the snow to begging an immortal woman for the gift of being reborn. The young woman looked for somewhere to sit, some corner that wasn't fully covered in snow, which was a somewhat impossible request. The white robe doubled in size with each passing minute, Artemisia could feel the skirt start to get hard and icy, no longer able to have the same movements as a normal skirt. But she w
If someone told Artemisia that one day she would wake up in the middle of winter, she would believe it. Which might be surprising, but even then, the young woman would trust the words of the person she told her that. It didn't need to explain in more detail, to say how one day the sun burned and the next day it was cold as a curse, the young woman would believe it. It was funnier that way. What's more, so many things had happened to the young woman that this would be just another normal day. Artemisia was willing to ask Geon again if he was hiding anything from her, it was clear as a crystal, at the moment the night before she had asked the demon, his expression could not be the best. Something inside the young woman said he was lying. She could call it something over-suspicious, perhaps. Artemisia went to sleep with Tinea's voice explaining to her about the flower that insisted on keeping in her life, but carrying an extensive secret like an apron, the young woman also woke up he